been given. Though you say that you wish
it, it is a lie which may not be ratified. Though you implore it of
me, it cannot be granted. It is he that is your love, and it is he
that must have you. I love you too, God in his wisdom knows, but it
cannot be so. Go and be his wife, for mine you shall never become. I
have meant well, but have been unfortunate. Now you know the state of
my mind, than which nothing is more fixed on this earth." It was thus
that he would speak to her, and then he would turn away; and the term
of his misery would have commenced.

On the next morning he got up and prepared for his interview with
John Gordon. He walked up and down the sward of the Green Park,
thinking to himself of the language which he would use. If he could
only tell the man that he hated him while he surrendered to him the
girl whom he loved so dearly, it would be well. For in truth there
was nothing of Christian charity in his heart towards John Gordon.
But he thought at last that it would be better that he should
announce his purpose in the simplest language. He could hate the man
in his own heart as thoroughly as he desired. But it would not be
becoming in him, were he on such an occasion to attempt to rise to
the romance of tragedy. "It will be all the same a thousand years
hence," he said to himself as he walked in at the club door.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE GREEN PARK.

He asked whether Mr John Gordon was within, and in two minutes
found himself standing in the hall with that hero of romance. Mr
Whittlestaff told himself, as he looked at the man, that he was such
a hero as ought to be happy in his love. Whereas of himself, he was
conscious of a personal appearance which no girl could be expected
to adore. He thought too much of his personal appearance generally,
complaining to himself that it was mean; whereas in regard to Mary
Lawrie, it may be said that no such idea had ever entered her mind.
"It was just because he had come first," she would have said if
asked. And the "he" alluded to would have been John Gordon. "He
had come first, and therefore I had learned to love him." It was
thus that Mary Lawrie would have spoken. But Mr Whittlestaff, as he
looked up into John Gordon's face, felt that he himself was mean.

"You got my letter, Mr Gordon?"

"Yes; I got it last night."

"I have come up to London, because there is something that I want
to say to you. It is something that I can't very well put up into a
le